Op-Ed Columns

Crime, says Anniston police Chief Johnny Dryden, "is like the weather. It's going to change, and it's going to change in a moment."

Well, then. Weather's changin', isn't it?

Public perception — as unscientific a measurement as you'll see — says yes, crime's changing, especially here in Calhoun County, and not for the better. More violent crime. More crimes in neighborhoods that aren't usually on the police blotter. More domestic crimes. More heinous, hard-to-fathom crimes. And more drug-related crime — the kindling that fuels almost all of these conversations.

Read the paper the last few months? Headlines say it's everywhere, in each part of the county, as impossible for a town to avoid as pollen in the spring.

Burglaries in east Anniston.

A killing in Piedmont, a horrific daughter-mother deal.

Man shot and killed at an Anniston nightclub on New Year's Eve.

Hotel robberies in Oxford.

And just in the last few weeks: Woman assaulted with a knife in Cooper Homes; man clubbed on Alabama 202; shots fired between vehicles on Gurnee Avenue; and a whole host of other incidents, in all of our towns, all displayed for the brutal, 24-hour cycle that is the court of public opinion.

What'd Dryden say? That crime and its tendencies change like the weather?

Seems then as if we're in one heck of a winter storm, right?

I'm not so sure. Crime statistics are like election-day exit polls; they can be spun and twisted like a stale ballpark pretzel. And I believe what Dryden told me earlier this week — that there is slight progress, though not enough, in fighting crime in his jurisdiction. He has statistics. They seem valid. To a layman, they make sense.

Unfortunately, statistics are one thing; perception's another. And I firmly believe that a sizeable segment of Calhoun Countians — regardless of race or where they live — would say that crime today is worse than it was yesterday.

The truth, in this sense, is irrelevant. What is relevant is what people believe — how safe they feel at home, in darkened parking lots, as they walk their dogs at night, as they worry about their non-chaperoned teenagers.

Believe me, this is a touchy subject. Writing about it is no fun. And there's no way to disregard the fact that racial issues — especially the high rate of black-on-black crime — cannot be ignored. Those statistics are iron-clad. Across America, blacks are killing blacks in our urban centers at a shocking, alarming rate that's lessening, though not fast enough.

It's not only a problem here. Take a look at Birmingham: Last week, 3,000 black men answered Mayor Larry Langford's request to address that city's sad surge in black-on-black violence. Langford's idea — dubbed "Plan 10/30" because a majority of Birmingham crimes are committed by black males aged 10 to 30 — is seeking help from those near the center of this tempest.

In essence, Langford wants leadership from Birmingham's sizeable black community. We'll see if it works. Community leadership's good, of course, but as Dryden said, "One entity can't do it all" — be it in Birmingham or in Calhoun County.

And here, where so many middle-aged and older residents were born into a community that embraced its small-town safety, it may seem as though the world's crashing down around them. Twenty-five years ago Calhoun County was captivated by perhaps its most notorious crime of the last three decades — the much-publicized Audrey Marie Hilley saga. But that was a one-time event, as were the Donald Ray Wheat/Blockbuster murders of 2002. Those don't occur every day.

Sadly, what's happening is the natural erosion of humankind. Crime's been with man since the dawn, but now it's reported more, it's televised more, it's the soulless heart of reality TV. More than ever, crime sells in print, on the Web, and on the airwaves.

And as our communities have changed — new residential developments, the intra-county migration of blacks and whites and rich and poor, the widespread and undeniable effect of meth — Calhoun County has joined the real world that exempts no person and no community from crime.

Perhaps now that we're seeing more and more violence in areas that haven't lived with it for generations we'll do something about it. We'll realize that crime, and what leads to it, should be a priority for all of us, that it isn't escapable.

Mayberry hasn't been around for some time.

"I think we (in Calhoun County) were spoiled for years, particularly the people who grew up here and are getting old," Dryden said, recalling his Anniston youth when people didn't lock their doors. "Everything's changed, and it's changed pretty fast."

But how fast? Is perception reality? Is the rise in crime here really as pronounced as some people think? Or do statistics that show progress provide comfort?

It doesn't matter.

What matters is, do you feel safe?

If you don't, then all the data and reassurance from people such as me are worthless. Perception, in this case, can keep one up at night.